Happy Eating Til You Wanna Puke Day

from me and mine to you and yours!

Since Thanksgiving technically kicks off the holiday season, I figured I'd take five minutes and reflect on what I am thankful for:

My Husband - even when he aggravates the holy hell out of me, he is still the best thing to come into my life. He loves me unconditionally, thinks I'm pretty, tolerates all my moods and quirks. I need to spend more time telling him how great he is instead of getting dwelling on what he does to piss me off. I love you more today than yesterday, Don. Thanks for healing all the holes in my heart.

My Shaggy - the child that made me a mother, the child that makes me proud. I can't believe it is almost time to drop kick you out the front door. You will always be my baby and I will always love you. You make me laugh and your sisters should thank you for raising a mother so they had the easy road! :D

My Dancing Drama Queen - the only expected (not to mention conceived in welock child since I'm a sinner and all) child and my first beautiful baby girl. You were everything I hoped for when I was pregnant and have grown into so much more as the time has flown by. Even though I'm seriously giving thought to deporting you until puberty is over, you always hold a special place in my heart as my first and most precious baby girl. Keep pirouetting through life and living up to all your dreams!

My Demon Spawn - you were the most unexpected gift I never thought I wanted. You have completed our families in a way that we didn't even realize they needed until you came along. Even though you will always be Daddy's girl, you have definitely taught me that motherhood isn't something that happens at birth but more so something that you have to earn. I love you, my pumpkin pie!

My Mom and Dad - you both showed me what family means and also what marriage means. You are the greatest parents any child could want. Thank you both for all the joy, the memories, the love, and most of all for being my parents for the last 36 years. (Remember when I was a teenager and thought you both sucked and you told me when I was a parent I'd think you were cool again? Yeah, you were right!)

My sister - thanks for always showing me up by being the "good child". Erin - what can I say to you...I'm thankful for you and all that it entails. I love you more than I ever tell you Owen.

Friends - there aren't many but for those that I am close to (yes, in case you are reading, this includes you Devil Boss) thanks for letting me be me and always being there if I needed an ear.

I've come to realize that as I get older, I get (A) sappier, (B) wiser, (C) introspective. A good friend just lost her mother and another found out his father has cancer and yet another is struggling watching her paren't age and it has made me realize, there isn't always a tomorrow and we must take the time to let those who matter know how important they are to us. So, thank you to all of you in the internetz/bloggerville who have touched my life.

Have a wonderful, safe, and satisfying Thanksgiving!

Abby and the Potty

Abby turned 2 in September. Right around that time, she decided that shit in her diaper wasn't pleasant. AT. ALL. We had to start watching her like a hawk because...well because toddler shit doesn't like to stay put in a diaper. It likes to roll onto the carpet and then get smashed in by toddler Flintstone feet. Quite frankly, Momma is sick of cleaning carpets.

We dragged the trusty potty into the living room and bought some schweeeeeeeet undies (or sandies in Abbyese) and decided this would be a good time to start potty training.

Lo and behold, she had some instant success as demonstrated in the picture. If you look real close, you can see the brown shark in the potty. Wow, I thought, this is going to be easy. Yeah, she fooled me. The potty eventually got retired for a couple of months and we started putting the diapers on backwards and gave a permanent place of residence to the steam vac. I started calling it Stan and it was like he was a part of our family he got used so much. (I'll be damned if the Demon Spawn didn't figure out pretty freaking quick how to remove those backwards diapers).

Fast forward to the last couple of weeks and we have been having renewed potty success. We still have to watch the Demon Spawn like a hawk because she loves to empty the potty and with those toddler Flintstone feet, she falls alot. That is something I totally don't get - I swear her feet are as wide as they are long..you'd think that would give her added stability. At any rate, the other night she peed in the potty, grabbed the cup out and started her mad dash to the bathroom to wish her tinkle good-bye.

I managed to stop her and asked her what she had...her response has me really worried about what she's doing with that potty when we aren't watching. She said it was juice. Hmmmm...thats a new kind of juice but I guess whatever floats her boat!

As an aside, potty training her reminds me of Shaggy way back in the day. When he finally shit on the toilet, he wouldn't let me flush it because his dad wasn't there. He sat in his bedroom window and waited for his dad to get back. When he saw him walking up the steps (we lived in a townhouse complex), he screamed out the window, "Dad, come watch my poop dance." Apparently my kids also have a bathroom fetish....

Into The Rabbit Hole

Since Hubby has been watching the World Series - a World Series I am totally boycotting in spite of my love of baseball, a World Series we aren't talking about since the Sox C-H-O-K-E-D - I've been forced into the bedroom to find whatever I can on television. Let me tell you, its been slim pickings. The good side, I've been catching up with my reading.

At any rate, I was flipping channels last night and happened to catch another Duggar show. Thinking it was another of their specials, I started watching and quickly - oh so quickly - got sucked into the newest Duggar Vortex. 17 Kids and Counting.

Now, I think these people are freaking certifiable. I have enough trouble with 3 kids. I'm also a little (ok more than a little) freaked out by their lifestyle. There is just something so....so....cultish about their family. The girls all dressed in skirts and long long hair. The boys in khakis and polos. The constant religious aspect. The homeschooling. I know there are people who read this who homeschool *cough*Tina*cough* and I truly do say to each their own but, when you add homeschooling to this family. At any rate, I think you get the point that I think they are strange.

OK - I'll say it. They flat out piss me off. They have all these kids and say that its "God's Will" but as far as I can see from watching any of the shows, they don't raise all these kids. Each little kid is assigned a buddy - an older sibling - to help care for them. To me, you are forcing these kids to become parents. If you want to have 100 kids, GREAT! Have them! BUT, I think you have to be prepared to raise them yourself. Your children didn't have these kids - you did!

Now, I feel better getting that off my chest. I'm sure there are those who will not agree with me and that's ok. That's what makes this country great - we can all have our own asshole opinion.

However, in watching one of the episodes last night, I was left totally speechless. And for anyone who doesn't know me, that doesn't happen often. The Duggar's oldest son has a girlfriend. One he wants to start dating seriously. What does he do? He calls the girl's parents and asks if he can have her hand in marriage so that they can date seriously. OK - strange but I get all that. He flies to Florida and proposes and then...he hugs her. He later explains that they will not kiss until their wedding. What the HELL??? I get the no sex thing. I can even respect that. I couldn't do it but I do get it. I even understand the engagement thing. What I don't understand is, you are 20 years old, you've asked this woman to marry you and all you can do with her is hug her and hold her hand? That, I do NOT get.

You will notice that I tend to shy away from 2 things on this blog - politics (I'm a democrat) and religion (I'm a Catholic) since both are pretty personal things and both are things that you generally will not change someones mind on. The Duggars fall into my no religion rule but I just had to blog about this. I give them a lot of credit in that they seem a very happy cult family but, I do also believe in all things in moderation. I'm pretty sure God wouldn't keep them out of Heaven for kissing.

**stepping down from my soapbox with the promise to return to regularly scheduled programming**

SHHHHHH

We are NOT going to discuss the Red Sox.

Law and Order: SVU

In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.

Kelly and I were watching an old episode of SVU last night. During the opening credits (as above) she turned to me and said, "Isn't heinous a bad word?"

I said no, it means horrible. She paused for a moment digesting this information. Then she said, "Well isn't the word like heinous a bad word?"

I'm sitting there trying to puzzle out a synonymn for heinous that could be a bad word and getting no where so I ask her what word she means.

She says, "Like heinous but without the h".

I'll give you a minute to sound it out in my head like I did last night.


**cue the Jepoardy music**

Did you come up with anus? Did you laugh?

Apparently Frank, who's really smart, told Kelly that anus was a bad word. I disagree with Frank's level of smartness since he thought anus was a bad word. Once I explained to Kelly that anus was the anatomically correct way to say poop chute, I think she wishes she'd stayed in the dark and never asked....

Abby the Explorer

Abby is addicted to a few shows - Onder Pets, Ongebob, Ora, Boos Clues to name a few (Let me know if anyone needs the translations to those titles as they are in Abbaese). As a matter of fact, she's behind me now, buck ass naked, singing about Eam Ork (Teamwork) as she watches the Wonder Pets.

This weekend, I found out just how much she's addicted to these shows. She was sitting on her potty (don't ask how that's going...she'll sit on it until she has to go then gets up and shits or pees on the floor) and I was talking to Kelly. I was listening to Abby with half an ear when I though I heard uno. Thinking that she babbles a lot and I wasn't paying total attention to her, I just assumed I misunderstood.

Then, I heard tres, cinqo, ocho. After I picked my jaw up from the shock, I shushed Kelly and told her to listen. I'll be damned if she didn't count to 8 in Spanish. All of the numbers correct. My favorite is ocho because of the way she says it, OOOOOOOCHO.

On a side note, anyone have any tips on potty training? She won't keep a diaper on (especially if she poops in it) yet, short of superglueing her ass to the potty, she won't stay on that either. What's worse is, she makes sure to tell us as soon as she goes on the floor. I'm thinking she'll be in diapers til she's 21 at this rate....

Houston....We Have a Problem

Hubby and I have been tossing around when would be the right time to convert Abby's crib into a toddler bed. We've been in no rush to do it since the crib has kept her nice and contained. As a matter of fact, I threw her in there about 11 am on Saturday because she was being real whiney and difficult. I figured it was close enough to nap time. Somehow, when I left the room, I shut the door all the way. After about 5 minutes of her screaming, I told Kelly to go and get her up as she obviously wasn't ready to nap.

Kelly opens her door and I hear, "How did you get out?". I knew it was trouble right then and there. I go down to the Demon's room and sure enough, she is free from her cage. I put her back in and told her to show Mommy how she got out and she sure did!



Please excuse the Wal-Martz look of a diaper and a t-shirt, we are also working on potty training.



Almost over....Just a bit further



"Ha Ha! Thought you could keep me in here did you???"

I imagine that we'll be on the news shortly about some wild looking child wearing only a diaper and a t-shirt found wandering up and down our street.

Deep Thoughts

I know I've mentioned that I'm an Air Force Brat and that I attended High School in England. For the record, I have no idea why brat and high school are capitalized. Moving on....

Children of parents in the Armed Services have a unique bond. Perhaps its because we know our time together is limited until our parent receives their next assignment. Perhaps its because we all understand what the life if like. I'm not sure exactly why but I do know that I can recall names, faces, memories of the friends I made at every base we were stationed at. I may not have kept in touch but each of those friends left their imprint on my life. However, being stationed overseas changed that bond. It made the bond you had with others more concrete. We had the added bond of knowing we were strangers in a foreign country. This caused us to cling to each other even more so.

When we moved to England in 1984, the base my dad was stationed at was in the process of building a new school. It was a lovely $20 million dollar project that would house all of us Air Force kids grades K-12. In the meantime, grades K-3 attended one school that was an old firestation and grades 4-9 attended school in these building that we guess were old offices. After 9th grade, we were bussed off to attend school on another base just outside of London.

At this school, there were day students (student's who's parents were stationed at that base), 5 day dormies (me - kids who's parents were stationed close enough to make it financially feasible to send us home on weekends), and 7 day dormies (kids who were too far away to spend weekends at home). This type of existence created a huge bond between all of us. I attended this school for 10th grade only before our new school opened. In spite of the fact that I was only there for one year, if a name is mentioned to me, it usually will conjur up a face to go with it. We were tight.

Both of these schools are now closed. Both bases have fallen victim to the Ballistic Missles Treaty between the US and Russia in the early 90's. Our brand new school graduated only three classes - class of 1989, class of 1990 (that was me) and class of 1991. These were small classes, there were only 45 kids in my graduating class. Perhaps a total of 50 in the class of 1989 and less than 40 for the class of 1991.

I had been living over there since 7th grade. I was a long timer, with my parents signing on for an extra tour of duty so that I could complete high school in one location. Even though our school was small, I felt that I was pretty well known by most people simply by the fact that I had been there forever.

In about the last 4 years, there have been some attempts to locate all the alumni. Most of us scattered all over the globe at graduation, breaking the promises that were penned in numerous yearbooks about keeping in touch. It was different for us, we didn't all live in the same town - we weren't likely to run into each other. We all began to live our lives and while the memories we had of those years faded, they were never completely erased.

With the advent of MySpace and Facebook, the reconnection effort has exploded. We are all finding each other again after 20 odd years. The odd thing is, the faces I hold in my memories, the faces that are conjured up to match a name, are the faces I saw last in the early 90's. I've forgotten that all of us have aged - most with families of our own and some of us with children the same ages we all were when meeting. Its such a shock to the system to see these adults. I guess in some corner of my mind, I was still expecting the pegged jeans, the Iron Maiden t-shirts, the flannel overshirts, the big hair, the blue eyeshadow, and the many other compenents that made up the fashion disasters of the 80's and early 90's.

I've discovered that a few people actually live in cornland with me. One of them was a girl I wasn't particularly close to in high school who has continually offered to meet up for lunches, dinners, etc. I keep blowing her off. Why? I don't really know. I guess some of the other people I've come in contact with over the years seem to be stuck in high school. They seem to want to live in the past. I know I'm not the same person I was 20 years ago. I guess the other part is being afraid. My life after high school didn't quite turn out as I expected and I know I was perceived as one of those who was going to "go places". I'm sure as hell not the skinny kid I was 20 years ago. Fear of being a disappointment - fear of being judged - fear of finding out those you were closest too 20 years ago are no longer people you'd chose to associate with. That's what's holding me back.

So, next June is the 20th reunion of the class of 1989 being celebrated with a reunion in Kansas City. I've been toying with it in my mind trying to decide if I want to go. Do I have the balls to face all these people and say, "This is me now - no college degree, a shitload of kids, a mouth like a sailor, and an ass the size of Australia". If I don't go, will I be missing a great opportunity to relive some crazy and outlandish moments with those I shared them with (bottles of Mad Dog 20/20 and Nightrain were probably involved with most of those memories)? Will I be missing the opportunity to discover people I wasn't close to? Will I be missing the opportunity to discover that most of us attending have the same extra pounds? Will these people "get me"?

Is it really fear holding me back or am I as judgmental as I'm afraid these people will be of me. All of the people sharing cornland with me aren't people I hung with. There might have even been a couple I really didn't like. Am I holding back because I didn't like someone 20 years ago? What if they've changed just as I've changed? Am I missing the opportunity make some new lifelong friends - friends who happen to share an experience with me?

I guess the important question to ask is: Will there be booze there?

Happy Birthday, Crabigail!!

Today marks the day, 2 years ago, that you came into our lives. While unexpected, I feel that you have enriched our lives beyond measure. You are the cement that binds our blended family together.

I'll be honest with you, little one, I wasn't all that excited about the prospect of another child. I was happy with the way things were, your dad and I finally had a little bit of financial freedom. We were both comfortable with the idea that I had my children and he had his children and we wouldn't have our child. Apparently, someone had bigger and definitely better ideas. You beat the odds - the odds of birth control pills and a low sperm count due to testicular cancer - to be conceived. Somebody much smarter than daddy and I obviously saw that there was something missing from our lives.

I started getting a little more excited once we found out that you were a girl. You see, daddy already had two boys and truly believed that he didn't have the girl gene. His voice cracked with emotion on the way home from the ultrasound. It's the closest to crying I've ever seen your daddy come. Even then, I was really more happy for him than I was about this whole baby thing.

You were born in a flurry of activity early on a Friday morning. My water broke in true dramatic fashion about 4 am on the 15th. I was still more excited at the prospect of getting my body back than your birth. Well, especially after since Mommy was really sick after the c-section.

We brought you home, we fed you and cuddled you, we marvelled over you. Yet, still a dark cloud persisted. You see, you had a bent up ear, a hemangioma birthmark, and a mild form of spina bifida (a sacral dimple, or what mommy likes to call - your extra butthole). Each new issue brought a new wave of guilt over mommy. It was all mommy's fault that you had these issues because of how I felt. Mommy distanced herself even more.

There were even issues with mommy and daddy's marriage. Mommy was pretty resentful over all the changes going on. Daddy was so in love with you that sometimes it didn't seem like he had any love left over for mommy. You and daddy just didn't seem to need mommy around.

Then one day, it happened. Mommy went and fell head over heels in love with you. It wasn't the same instantaneous reaction mommy had with Sean and Kelly, but somehow, someway, you snuck in and grabbed hold. It wasn't that mommy didn't love you before, because she did. It was just different. You never seemed to need me the way that Sean or Kelly did. You often seemed to prefer daddy over me. Oh that stung. But again, mommy figured it must be her fault in some way.

Now, no matter how difficult it can be at times, I wouldn't change it. When you run through the front door and wrap yourself around me and say "mommmmmmmy" like you haven't seen me in a month, my heart melts. When you look up at me and say, "I wanna biss (kiss)" I would give you the moon. When you sit and have conversations with me, even when I can't understand it all, I want to freeze time and treasure every syllable. When you cuddle up to me and want me to read to you, I will put aside anything I'm doing so as to enjoy the feel of your baby fat body in my arms. When you want to sit and sing songs with me, you have my undivided attention - and totally off key voice - for as long as you want it.

You, my perfect little surprise, have taught me not to take anything for granted. Motherhood is a gift, one to be valued, treasured, and protected. It is not my right simply because you grew in my body. So, with more love today than 2 years ago, mommy wishes you a happy birthday and asks you not to grow up too fast!

PS - reading this back, mommy suspects she might have had some PPD that she wasn't willing to admit to before, hiding and burying it all under a smile.

PPS - This was one of the hardest things I've ever written...talk about stripping yourself raw!

I Wanna Be An Airborne Ranger...

March along, sing our song, with the Army of the free
Count the brave, count the true, who have fought to victory
We're the Army and proud of our name
We're the Army and proudly proclaim......

Oy Vey! I came home last night to find an Army recruiter sitting in my house talking to my son. Apparently, my son neglected to inform me that he was coming over to discuss the Reserves.

My Son....

In

The

Army?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

We aren't Army people in our house...my dad was Air Force and Hubby was Navy...there is no Army.

My Son.....

A

Grunt?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

So, of course, the recruiter gave us the happy song and dance about how wonderful the reserves are. How happy he would be. What a great opportunity to pay for his education. It was all sunshine and roses. It was all love and kisses. It was all...

A load of smoke being blown up my ass.

I flat out asked him what his chances were at getting deployed to Iraq. He danced around the issue. He tried to tell me that the jobs Shaggy professed interest in were safe. I told him he was full of shit. This is MY baby we are talking about and I know military life. Jackass.

I promptly called my dad after the recruiter left fully expecting him to tell me to hide Shaggy in a closet and not to ever ever ever let the Evil Empire (aka the Army) get their hooks into him.

Did I get that? Of course......NOT. My dad's only response was that Shaggy should look into it as active duty (heehee I said doody) instead of the reserves.

I guess on the plus side, I do love a man in uniform.....but ewwwwww Army green is not attractive on anyone. The recruiter did have one of those cute little beret hats though.....NO NO NO Army. Not my baby!

Has anyone had any experiences with the Army reserves (good, bad, otherwise) that they'd like to share with me? It sure would help me be able to steer my baby in the right direction!

Shaggy Gets No More Red Sox Gear - EVER!

I've determined that Shaggy is bad luck to my Red Sox. Everytime we get him any Red Sox gear with names on it, the player leaves. With that being said, he no longer gets any player specific gear unless it is a player we wanted traded!!!

Case in point 1: My sister lovingly orders Shaggy a Johnny Damon T-shirt for Christmas. She does this ohhh in about October. By the time December rolls around, Johnny Damon has been traded to the Yankees. The t-shirt is now a rag shirt.

Case in point 2: In April, Shaggy begs for a Manny Ramirez jersey. (Actually he's been begging for one for a few years but they are ridiculously expensive and Manny always seems to want to be traded). I managed to find a jersey on e-bay for $40.00. Cha and Ching, Shaggy's birthday done! Fast forward to now, and who's no longer with the team? That's right, Manny. That great bargain jersey? Now sitting in the closet collecting dust, never to be worn.

So, now we have one size XL Manny Ramirez Red Sox road jersey for sale.....anybody? Bueller?

Holy Vicodin Batman

Did you know that dentist prescribe Vicodin? No? Neither did I - until yesterday that is.

Let me set the scene -

3:30 pm: Grown woman who looks like she is about to cry and beg for her mama is sitting in the waiting room of the oral surgeon's office.

3:45 pm: Grown woman is contemplating making a break for it but seems to notice the receptionist eyeing her and sending the message that if she moves she will be taken down WWE style.

4:00 pm: Grown woman finally called back. Takes the long walk and imagines the dental assistant shouting, "Dead Woman Walking" as they make their way back to the office. Palms are now sweating and face is dead white.

4:05 pm: Grown woman sits in the chair...imagines this is what the electric chair feels like.

4:10 pm: Injections begin. Injections hurt. A tear or two might slip from grown woman's eye. Dentist discusses also using a long lasting local anesthic. Grown woman heartily agrees.

4:20 pm: Dentist injects the long lasting local. Injections still hurt. Grown woman begins to worry even more. Current blood pressure reading at 165/105 (Her normal is 112/67)

4:30 pm: Dentist begins. Grown woman winces and makes ouchie noises. Dentist asks what she feels. After debating kicking him in the crotch, grown woman answers, PAIN. More local anesthetic is applied. Whole bottom of woman's face is now numb.

4:40 pm: Mild discomfort as left bottom wisdom tooth is removed. Deep breaths.

4:50 pm: Definite pain and more tears as bottom right wisdom tooth is removed. Just as grown woman is ready to start yelling like a bitch, dentist announces tooth is out. Grown woman is very happy.

5:00 pm: Stiches and gauze applied. Teeth are examined. YUCK. Dentist asks grown woman if she wants her teeth to which grown woman replies that she might be a little old for the tooth fairy.

6:00 pm: Quick trip to Wal-Mart for soft food and soup and Vicodin.

7:00 pm: Back home. Grown woman gets into pajamas and makes soup. Discovers that it hurts to eat. Decides to take a Vicodin as pain is getting pretty bad.

8:00 pm: Woman out cold in bed. Does not see the light of day again until this morning.

Now, I feel like a chipmunk and my whole lower jaw hurts. I did wake up to find that my wonderful Hubby had cleaned the bathroom and kitchen so he's kinda my favorite person right now.

Crapplebees Part Deux

Awhile back, I made this post about a family visit to Crapplebees. For some reason this post has recently attracted some "interesting" comments.

The first one was received on 5/28 (and this is a direct copy and past from the comment - those are NOT my misspellings):

then stop feeding your kids processed junk and stop bothering people by eating out by leaving yoru crying children home. something tells me none of you have owrked in miserable casual dining.

I read it and thought, well that's interesting. I debated responding to it and then thought, what's the point? Due to the tone and grammatical errors, not to mention the misspellings, I thought it might well be hard to respond on that level.

Then, on 7/5, I received this comment (and this is a direct copy and past from the comment - those are NOT my misspellings):

don't go out stay home and eat meatloaf and complain about it you stupid cow
Now piss off

Once I was done laughing that a post about Applebees would inspire this kind of ire, I figured I'd respond to both comments. Then I started wondering would I sound angry? Even if I tried to be funny, would it still come across as angry? I figured that I was more than likely going to come off bitchy, which wouldn't take rocket science to figure that's exactly what the infamous Anonymous commenter wanted.

To me, the purpose of blogging is a place to share with people who usually don't know you a chance to view your life through whatever window you choose to open. You are putting yourself out there. Opening yourself up to whatever comments - supportive and otherwise - are left for you. I choose to share pretty much whatever is on my mind. I have a don't hold back mentality and enjoy hearing that the ups and downs of my life amuse people. Its a creative outlet for me to vent, bitch, or share whatever I feel is worth writing about.

So, to the infamous Anonymous, let me respond to your comments:

1. I don't feed my children processed junk BUT if I did, what difference does it make to you? Do you get a sense of superiority by telling me not to feed them processed junk? If so, you're welcome for the cheap thrill! Now, I must go open a can of spaghetti-o's for the baby.

2. I can assure you that we do often leave our children, crying and otherwise, at home and go out. I can also assure you that I have taken children, crying and otherwise, out. My children are not perfect - they sometimes act up when out in public - but unless something in our civil rights have changed, I'm pretty sure I have the right to go where ever I chose with or without crying children. I'm also pretty sure that I have the right to say whatever the fuck I want about it, just as your have the right to leave an unintelligible and poorly written comment about it. Next time - continue your education past the 7th grade!

3. I have never worked in any food service business. However, I do know what my philosophy is when out: If I get good service, I compensate accordingly. Good service isn't about me not liking the meal or having a problem with the meal. Good service is about not being a moron and putting a steak knife in front of a baby. Good service is not about being a moron and asking if I want my dinner, that contained a hair, boxed up to go. Take these tips with you when you go to work tomorrow - wait, you don't get tips at McDonald's do you?

4. If I were to stay home and eat meatloaf, I guarandamntee you I wouldn't be complaining about it since I would have made it.

5. Stupid cow? You could have made a better insult if you just said fat cow. I've blogged publicly about having a fat ass. I've also made mention of the fact that I'm pretty fucking smart.

I've often said that I'll take whatever comments I get and be glad for them. Do not mistake this post - I'm taking the comments, and I'm glad for them since it gave me some blog material. If you are going to leave uneducated anonymous comments, be prepared to be called out for them! Also, next time I go through the Mickey D's drive thru - I don't want that supersized, mmmmm'kay?

For Sale

One slightly used child.

You can pick out the newest model as seen here:

AKA Demon Spawn, Devil's Child, Seed of Satan
Pros: She's really cute and smart
Cons: She's bad.

You can go with the middle model as seen here:

AKA Drama Queen, Monkey Wailer, Tiny Dancer
Pros: She's beautiful - just look at that picture!! She's a lot of help (with the right incentive)
Cons: Everything's a battle, the tears are copious.

You can go with the oldest model as seen here:

AKA Shaggy, You Smell, You're Gross
Pros: He's a hardworker, good with yard work, pretty funny
Cons: He likes to be dirty....really really dirty

Why am I selling off one or all of my kids? I have several reasons:

1. The economy freaking sucks and I just can't freaking afford them anymore.
2. They sometimes get on my nerves.
3. Momma needs to get some more dental love.

That's right folks, the women who hates/loathes/fears the dentist is smack in the middle of a major reconstructive project on my mouth and its fucking expensive.

The tally to date includes 1 crack ho extraction, 1 full mouth debridement (yeahh to year's of tartar build up), 1 filling done on the front of a tooth extending below the gumline, 1 crown.

Still to be completed?? Extraction of two lower wisdom teeth, 3 more crowns on the lower molars, and 1 more filling. That will just take care of the lower jaw.

Total cost to me - $960 give or take a couple of bucks. Oh God, I'm pretty sure I just puked a little. Bottom jaw only. Fuck me!

Now I'm scared to death of the top jaw because due to a couple of accidents, I have some nice chipped teeth right in the front. My dentist muttered something about the top teeth to his assistant. I couldn't hear it real clearly but I'm pretty sure it was something along the lines of a new BMW thanks to my mouth. We're talking about some more crowns and some veneers and probably an implant to fill my crack ho spot.

I told Kelly that braces were off the table for her until....well until she can pay for them herself.

The only good news out of this is, with all the restorative (nice use of a dental term!) work to be done, I won't have any need for bleaching since they will all be white anyway.

Along these same lines, what's everyone doing to stay afloat with the economy what its like. Damn we were barely scraping along before now with all the rising costs, we are starting to sink.

Maybe I should leave that crack ho hole alone and start earning money the old fashioned way......

Conversations With Abby

As parents, we think our little demon spawn princess is pretty darn smart. Of course, we are supposed to think this. However, I have had others mention her verbosity to me so I know its not all in my head!

She loves for me to read her books. She sits intently on my lap and studies each page as I read it. She gazes up at me in wonder when I change my voice for different characters. It truly is a special time (especially since The Night Before Christmas magically disappeared since we all knew it by heart after each reading it every night). Her favorite book these days is a color book. She loves to bring it to me and have me ask her the colors. Damned if she can't tell me.

M: Abby what color is this?

A: Wed!

M: That's right, Red!!!

We go through each color, mean (green), wellow (yellow), mink (pink), mown (brown), etc, until we get to black. Black is my favorite color:

M: Abby what color is this?

A: Cock!

M: Wild giggles

H: Buh buh buh Black

A: Cock!

I love it....yes, that makes me sick and twisted mother but its just too damn funny.

The other day she was running around naked (yes, this is our lame ass attempt to potty train). When I came in to yell at her for the millionth time to sit her hiney down on the potty chair, I found her sitting on the floor with her legs spread wide. She had a wad of stuffing from the couch which she was oh so carefully attempting to place on her girly area. Yes, like hair....hair down there.....I lost it in a fit of giggles. I was laughing so hard I was crying.

Also, don't ask her to say talk, it sounds an awful lot like black!

I Iz A Crack Ho

Have I mentioned my insane fear of the dentist? The fear that is so bad that my hands start sweating just at the mention of dentist? The fear that is so overwhelming I must feel like my tooth is going to explode and take along half my jawbone with it before I will go in?

When I was little - about 3 or so - I had a family dentist who didn't believe in using novacaine for some of the pesky "little" cavities. Yep, thats right, he'd drill my teeth sans anesthesia all while singing "Ki-Ki-Ki-Katy". Naturally, the dentist became equated with pain to me.

Then, at the tender age of 13, I performed a spectacular circus stunt over the front handlebars of my bike. This spectacular stunt involved my face taking the full impact into the concrete. Oh the joy of braces to hold my teeth in and a summer filled with dental appointments.

Needless to say, those two events started as a nasty little seed of fear that has since grown into the size of oh I don't know, the planet Venus. I have to be HURTING and hurting badly to go to the dentist. Then, it had been so long, that the fear combined with embarassment to prevent me from crossing the threshhold of a dental office!

About 6 months ago, a filling fell out. Since it didn't hurt, I didn't go to the dentist. The small opening became larger but still didn't hurt. The logical, not insane part of me knew I needed to go in but the absolutely whacked out nutjob part kept insisting it was fine. Then the damn thing started hurting - on a weekend of course - so I dealt with the pain because "it wasn't that bad" and sure enough, it eventually stopped hurting but then this large tender lump started to appear on my gumline above this tooth.

Anyone guess absess? You win the prize! Still, I did not go to the dentist. I did not go in until I read that an untreated absess can cause bone deterioration and could lead to jaw surgery. HELLO! That got my attention!

So, I made the appointment - explained what a wuss I am and perhaps even shed a few tears - and went in to find out that I needed the tooth pulled. Today was the big day. Since it was one of my first molars, I now look like a toothless crack whore.

On the plus side, I did make an appointment for a check up and they actually put in the computer that I cannot call to cancel (because that is how I roll) and once I get the lowdown on all the work (ie: cost) involved in my mouth, I'll go back and do the cosmetic part of getting my crack ho hole filled. I'm thinking I'll pimp out the mouth with a nice gold molar.......

Mama's Little Boy Has A Broken Heart

Dear Shaggy's Ex-Girlfriend,

You and Shaggy dated for over a year. While I truly didn't expect the relationship to last past high school, I was happy to see him so happy. I truly understand that teenagers date and teenagers break up - the breaking up wasn't really an issue for me.

However, what was an issue for me was the way you handled it. You handled it like a real bitch. I'm sure in the course of the year you dated, Shaggy told you all about his father. Yes, that would be the one who left him when he was 9. The one he hasn't seen since then. The one that abandoned him so cruelly, Shaggy felt it was his fault and wondered what he did wrong. Now, you aren't responsible for any of that and believe me when I say that I was there. I helped him through it and hopefully helped heal his heart just as he healed mine.

So, what is this shit that you told him when you broke up. That you were breaking up with him because, "he didn't seem that into you". I was pretty sure that was a bullshit excuse at the time but remembering what it was like to be a teenage girl, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I remember that in high school, it is better to be the dumper than the dumpee. I remember breaking up with boys before they had a chance to do it to me. So, I kinda understood. We (his father of his heart and I) stood behind him and talked to him and tried to help him heal. We advised him to not call you and seem desperate but to give you room. We told him that perhaps you were having a bad day/week/whatever and if it was meant to be that it would work out but not to hold out hope.

We see him moping around the house, desperately trying to rekindle old friendships that he let languish because he devoted every spare minute to you. We watched as he struggled to find things to do on his weekends - weekends he used to spend with you. We understood, believe me we did and didn't blame you for any of that.

Until yesterday - when I find out that you have a new boyfriend. Let me tell you how much that pissed me off. Not that you had a new boyfriend but in the way you ended things. That was a totally chickenshit way to do it - putting the blame on him knowing what he's been through and knowing that he would be making every effort to try and fix what couldn't be fixed. You owed him the truth. The truth that it was YOU who was no longer into HIM.

Again, I don't blame you for the fact that you no longer wanted to date my son. I blame you for the bullshit way you handled this. Also, if your new relationship doesn't work out, I hope like hell that you don't think Shaggy will be there to be your rebound boy. He deserves better than that.

Sincerely -

Shaggy's Mom who loves him very much!

Lyrics Quiz Missing Answers

1. There's a shadow just behind me, shrouding every breath I take, making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me.
Tool - Sober - there's something about a chorus of a song that says, "I just want to drink forever" that resonates with me....anyone else????

2. I'm not the one who's so far away when I feel the snakebite enter my veins.
Godsmack - Voodoo I'm half in love with the lead singer...I have a real thing for bad boys!!

3. She gave me her mind then she gave me her body but it seems to be that she gave it to anybody.
AC/DC - The Jack

5. Long before your rusted chains busted walls and barbed wire cage tried to hold me down.
Kenny Wayne Shepherd - Last Goodbye - Have I mentioned my love of the blues? KWS is one of my favorites and this is one of my favorite songs of his.

6. Take me to heart, and I'll always love you. (Several accepted artist for this song!)
Aretha Queen of Soul Franklin - Do Right Woman, Do Right Man - also would have accepted Commitments Soundtrack and Willie Nelson although I truly believe Willie Nelson's singing is an instrument of the Debil! (yes I purposely misspelled that!)

7. I made a promise to myself, locked it away deep down inside my heart.
Dixie Chicks - I Believe In Love - the only country you will find on my Ipod

8. So this ain't the end, I saw you again today.
Heart - Barracuda

9. She keeps her Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet.
Queen - Killer Queen

10. Asked sweet mama, let me be her kid.
Led Zep - Travellin Riverside Blues - although Robert Johnson and Eric Clapton would have worked!

11. I'm ever upper class high society, God's gift to ballroom notoriety.
AC/DC - Big Balls - this song ALWAYS makes me giggle....its that whole junior high sense of humor

12. Well I used to wake the morning, before the rooster crowed, searching for soda bottles, get myself some dough.
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Ballad of Curtis Lowe - hands down my favorite Skynyrd tune

13. I look at you and my blood boils hot, I feel my temperature rise.
Kiss - Heaven's On Fire - an homage to Hubby since this is his favorite band

15. I, I'm driving black on black, just got my license back.
Nickelback - Animals - who doesn't love a song about sex in a car?

21. Leaves are falling all around, its time I was on my way. Thanks to you I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
Led Zep - Ramble On

Thanks to all for playing - I will definitely do it again!!!!

Lyrics Quiz

I saw this (and competed as if it was a gold medal Olympic event) over on Tina's blog and thought, "What a great idea". Then , I feverishly went to work deciphering lyrics so I could win. What? No one wins? Its just for fun? Uh Huh...you just keep believing that. This idea started festering in my head. Wouldn't this make a great weekly feature on my blog? I have enough music to have this run for over a year with no repeats.

Then, the seeds of doubt starting creeping in. What if nobody played? What if my beloved song lyrics sat out there alone and unidentified. I would feel, once again, like the fat kid during a kick ball game. Then, I cried.

Next thing I know, Ms. Reese Witherspoon Sasha did the same quiz. And, she got LOTS of comments. After I picked myself up from the floor and dried the tears that were part of my full fledged tantrum (tantrum because she stole my idea and I was too late to play along and dammit, I MUST WIN!), I decided I was going to play along too. And, if its successful, I want to do it frequently because - well because I love music and it saves me from finding blog material.

So, here are the rules:
1. Put your MP3, IPOD, or other musical device on random.
2. Take the first 25 songs and list the first lyric.
3. Cross out the lyric when identified and be sure to list the correct commenter who got it right.
4. You have to list the first 25 NO MATTER HOW EMBARRASSING and folks, I have some embarrassing shit on my IPOD.

Everybody comfy and ready to play??? Good - lets rock:

1. There's a shadow just behind me, shrouding every breath I take, making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me.
2. I'm not the one who's so far away when I feel the snakebite enter my veins.
3. She gave me her mind then she gave me her body but it seems to be that she gave it to anybody.
4. What would you do if I sang out of tune would you stand up and walk out on me? (Two accepted artist for this song!)Sasha got it! - would have also accepted the Beatles for this one but the version I was listening to was Joe Cocker!!
5. Long before your rusted chains busted walls and barbed wire cage tried to hold me down.
6. Take me to heart, and I'll always love you. (Several accepted artist for this song!)
7. I made a promise to myself, locked it away deep down inside my heart.
8. So this ain't the end, I saw you again today.
9. She keeps her Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet.
10. Asked sweet mama, let me be her kid.
11. I'm ever upper class high society, God's gift to ballroom notoriety.
12. Well I used to wake the morning, before the rooster crowed, searching for soda bottles, get myself some dough.
13. I look at you and my blood boils hot, I feel my temperature rise.
14. Desmond has a barrow in the market place, Molly is the singer in a band. Sasha got this one too!
15. I, I'm driving black on black, just got my license back.
16. You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. The Renee!! Don't you just love Tracy Chapman???
17. Now here's a little story, I've got to tell, about 3 bad brothers you know so well. Sasha AGAIN! I, too, know all the words!!!
18. Working from seven to eleven every night, it really makes life a drag, I don't think that's right. Sasha you are a woman after my own heart since you could identify Since I've Been Lovin You - it is not only my favorite Zepp song but also my yahoo ID!!!
19. You know I'm a dreamer, but my hearts of gold, I had to run away high so I wouldn't come home low. Sasha yep, again! And I do hate hair bands but Hubby's crap is mixed in with mine!!!
20. I took my love and I took it down I climbed a mountain and I turned around. Sasha once more! One of my all time favorite songs.
21. Leaves are falling all around, its time I was on my way. Thanks to you I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
22. There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed. Some forever not for better, some have gone and some remain. Sasha - close enough for me but the actual song title is "In My Life"
23. Dig if you will a picture of you and I engaged in a kiss. The sweat of your body covers me. Sasha again
24. Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train. I's feeling near as faded as my jeans. Sasha knows her Janis - I can sing every word to this - which I do, at full volume, and VERY badly!
25. Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has a body like yours. Sasha knows her embarrassing George Michael songs! (even though I was listening to the GM version, I would also have accepted Limp Bizkit!

For a lot of these songs, there are multiple artist but the versions I have are probably my the best known artist for the song. Happy Singing!!

PS: lurkers unite and defeat the music Goddess also known as Sasha!!!!

Lost

One Adult Size Sense of Humor
Owner is very sad and missing this sense of humor.
If found, please return it along with my brain as I know they are hanging out together, probably on a street corner drinking beer and smoking crack

Small Reward Might Be Offered

Shaggy Oh Shaggy

As previously mentioned, Shaggy has his lisence (and a new used truck sitting in our driveway waiting to be fixed but thats a story for another day). Since then, he's been taking my car. I use the term car loosely here since its a 1993 Mitsubushi Eclipse with a lovely previously salvaged title but hey, the thing runs and it was free. He's been oh so careful to obey the rules of the road - no cell phone usage, home before midnight, no speeding, etc. - that he was SHOCKED when he got pulled over Friday night.

Apparently, the car had a headlight out. Whew...easy fix and only a fix it ticket. Slid right outta that one! So, on Saturday after work, he dutifully goes and buys a bulb and replaces it. Comes home to inform me that the bulb didn't fix the problem. He thinks its a fuse (it was really a relay but in the effort to explain all this to mechanically disinclined mother, he said fuse). Sunday, we head out to our friendly Napa store to get the relay. Find out that:

1. Its a special order part

2. Its over $30

During talking to the guys at Napa, we come up with a few things it might be since they do not think its a relay since the hazards work. Leaving the store, my husband gets the brilliant idea to see if the high beams work (they do). My fix to the whole problem is, just drive with the highs on, they aren't that bright. Hubby's fix? Shhhh don't tell him but it was much smarter than mine - switch out the bulb and see if it was a bad bulb he bought.

We pull out both bulbs and what do we find???? Shaggy bought a high beam bulb and replaced that - not a headlight bulb. Got a new bulb, popped it in, lights work great. And this kid wants to be a mechanic!!!

Why I Suck As a Mother

Kelly's birthday was Monday - that's right, Monday and here it is, almost a week later and I'm finally doing a birthday post for her. Yeah, I suck! I could pretend that its because she wasn't due until May and therefore I'm early but it really just boils down to I suck. I could say its because I couldn't find a good picture of her but its really because I suck. I could say its because we've been really busy but no, its because I suck.

My little Kelly Jelly Beans turned 13 on Monday. My mind just locks up at the idea of my baby being 13. Its such a milestone for a girl. Officially, no longer a little kid but now a teenager. Whew.

When I was pregnant with Kelly, I hoped and prayed for a little girl. I hoped and prayed for a red headed little girl with chubby cheeks. When she was born, I cried. I would sit for hours and stroke those puffy cheeks of hers. I would stare into her face while she gazed back at me. She was the daughter of my dreams. She still is.

So many memories of Kelly are wrapped around dance. She started dancing at 3 and threw her whole self into it - literally. Once that music started, her little hiney would start shaking just waiting for her cue. She would stand in front of the mirror, the TV, anything reflective to watch herself boogey. She would dance down the hallways. Twirl her way into the kitchen. Tap dance her way to the table for dinner. She was and is my Tiny Dancer who is now turning into the Dancing Queen. I can't hear either of those songs without thinking of my Kelly.

The first year she took real ballet, she stole the show. She was 4. All the little girls in her class were in a line to do their dance, most of them doing whatever step they could remember, not necessarily in the correct place and many of them looking to Kelly for guidance. At the end of the dance, she stood there on the stage looking so proud of herself and basking in the glow of the applause, as if they were all for her. Finally, one of the older dancers had to come out and lead her off the stage because she was holding up not only the next dance but also the rest of the kiddies in her class who were in line after her. To this day, I can still close my eyes and remember the look of sheer pride on her face. I can still remember the tears that I shed during that recital because my baby loved the limelight.

She still dances today. And has every year in between. Hanging in my basement are costumes covered with bags that get progressively larger. I cannot bear to part with them and the memories each costume holds. Now, she is turning into the one of the older girls, the girls she used to watch with wide eyes not being able to wait to reach their level. She is...a dancer, a ballerina.

I remember one year when she danced in the Nutcracker. They had a professional dancer who danced the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy. I saw Kelly speaking to her backstage (she would have been about 5 or 6). I asked her later what she had said to the dancer and her reply was, "I told her she did a good job". That's my Kelly - all the confidence in the world, thinking that her words to a professional dancer would make the dancer's day. I love that about her.

I've sat through every recital, getting choked up at most because of her beauty on stage but also because I know that she didn't have a father there to heap praise on her. I hated that I was the one to give her flowers when it should have been her father.

There is so much more to my Kelly than dance. She's so smart - she is currently applying to join the National Junior Honor Society and she's only in 7th Grade. She's won so many awards in school and I've come to find out she has art talent. She is so many things I'm not and if I could give her the world so that she didn't have to suffer for another day, I would. My little Kelly is going to go far in life (I'm counting on it, she has to take care of me when I'm old :D) and I'll be sure that I'm there for every little milestone she achieves - there have already been many and there are many more to come.

There isn't a day that my heart doesn't swell with pride for her - the daughter of my dreams. She has never done a single thing to make me ashamed of her. She has taught me to receive and give affection freely. She has taught me there is always enough love. She has taught me that softness isn't a weakness.

I love you my Kelly Jelly Beans. You will ALWAYS be my baby no matter what anyone says!

Discipline - Third Child Style

Our littlest little demon princess is almost 20 months old and we've already determined the following:

1. I was correct on the puberty theory in girls (you can read the theory under the post of Fuck You Hormones)
2. Your third child definitely gets away with more
3. Little kids are funny

We've really been trying to work on discipline with her because....well because she's bad! She's stubborn and determined and like most toddlers, no is her favorite word. Except she really means no. We've already been having some major battle of the wills.

We've been employing the time out method of discipline with her. I've even gone all Nanny Jo on her and give her a warning (If you don't do X, then you will go to time out) and an explaination after the time out. Sure she's sorry when she gets out, but she usually goes right back to doing whatever it was that earned her the time out in the first place.

Saturday took the cake though. There were some boxes of Kleenex on our recliner that Hubby hadn't quite gotten around to putting away. She thought it would be a really fun game to throw them around. I told her no and to pick them up. She looked at me and laughed. Yes, you read that right - laughed. So, I told her that if she didn't pick them up by the time I counted to 3, she was going in time out. She laughed again.

At this point, I was feeling my hairs turning gray.

In an effort to stay consistent, I gritted my teeth and said, "One". Abby's response??? "Two, Free" followed by wild giggling. After I picked my jaw up from the shock that my 19 month old baby knows how to count (to five no less!) I couldn't help but laugh. What are you supposed to do with a child that does their own count down?

She did finally pick up the tissues.

The Streets Are NOT Safe

If you live in Nebraska or ever intend to be in the vicinity of Nebraska (and come on, who doesn't plan that as the road trip of a life time!?) stay away from our house. The streets of Bellevue, Nebraska are officially no longer safe as my son is the proud new owner of an official driver's license. God Help Us All!

The Curse of the BamGino

Have I mentioned that I'm a die hard Sox fan? Have I mentioned my hatred of the Yankees? Have I mentioned how much the news story this weekend made me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants?

The Yankees/Red Sox rivalry is one of the oldest and best rivalries in Sports. It is certainly one of the most rabid. The Yankees got to revel in the Curse of the Bambino for 86 years. You know those Yankee fans were cheering and taunting every single time those farking Yankees beat the Sox. Apparently, they cannot take a dose of their own medicine.

In the latest chapter of the rivalry, The Curse of the Jersey (doesn't that sound like a Nancy Drew mystery?), or what I like to call the Curse of the BamGino, a loyal Sox fan got his chance to work some Red Sox Voodoo on those hated Yankees. Mr. Gino Castignoli was working on the new Yankees Stadium and apparently managed to slip a jersey into the building which then got buried in concrete.

This is when things then got interesting and the Yankees became bigger Ass Hats. According to the article, Yankees President Robert Levine had this to say:

"The first thought was, you know, it's never a good thing to be buried in cement when you're in New York," Levine said. "But then we decided, why reward somebody who had really bad motives and was trying to do a really bad thing?"

Are you fucking kidding me? A bad thing? Are these people for real? Now, most people I talked to are not Sox or Yankee fans and they all thought it was extremely funny. And in my defense, I will say that if the shoe was on the other foot, and it was a Yankee jersey buried at Fenway, I'd laugh at that too. Gino's plan was brilliant and totally in line with the whole Sox/Yankees rivalry.

So, Sunday after Ass Hats the Yankees spent 5 hours and God knows how much money to retrieve this "curse", they are now debating whether or not criminal charges will be filed? Do they not realize what morons they are making themselves look like? Do they not realize that they have made our little Sox fan Gino incredibly famous because of all this? If they didn't want to reward his actions, they sure went about it the wrong way.

Tell me, what do you think? Did you find this funny or disrespectful? Do you think the Yankees are right? Are the Yankees taking this too far? Should the shirt have been left (like Hoffa in Giants Stadium)?

For anyone who hasn't read the story and wants to, here is the link you will have to copy and paste since I am too lazy to download the right internet browser for my Mac: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/baseball/mlb/04/13/curse.foiled.ap/index.html

My Birthday Boy

Dearest Shaggy -

I cannot believe how quickly the last 17 years have gone. It seems like only yesterday you were still my baby, holding tight to my hand as we walked. Sometimes, I forget that you don't look like this anymore -



and that instead, you are almost a grown man with your whole life ahead of you.

I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of you. You have overcome much adversity in your life to be a fantastic young man and a wonderful son.

You and I have certainly weathered some "interesting" times.

There was the time you cut the main phone line in an attempt to splice a phone into it since there wasn't a phone jack.

There was the time you got a metal detector and my backyard resembled a mine field with all the holes.

There was the time you got a cordless drill and decided to find what exactly your drill bit would penetrate.

There are the times you brought home lawnmowers and weed eaters because you were sure you could fix them.

There was also a chain saw one time.

There was the time I came home to find a pile of junk in the garage that you had scavenged out of the creek and were determined they were antiques and worth a fortune.

There have been times I've dried your tears because you didn't understand what you did to drive your father away.

There have also been times you've healed my heart just when I didn't think I could go on.

There have been the countless dance recitals that you've been at without complaint because you knew it was important to your sister.

There are the times when I see you hug Abby and realize your heart is soft.

There is the physically disabilities you've overcome with your partial blindness, determined not to let it stop you from fulfilling your dreams.

There are the times that I know I can trust you to be out safe because, in truth, you've never given me a moments doubt.

There are the times you've hustled for odd jobs to get money for whatever it was you wanted because you didn't want to stress me by asking. Somehow, someway, you knew how dire the situation was without any support from your father without me ever saying a word.

From your first faltering steps as a baby to your more secure and confident ones as you turn into a man, I've been there. While my heart breaks that I didn't take the time to enjoy the wonderful amazing gift I was given, it also swells with pride at the adult you are becoming.

You taught me what it means to be a mother, and to some degree, also a father. You taught me what unconditional love it. You taught me unselfishness. You taught me the true meaning of beauty the first time I gazed into your face. You taught me hope. You taught me bravery. You have definitely given more to me than I could ever hope to give to you.

You will always be my firstborn baby - no matter how old or big you get. I love you more today then I did seventeen years ago. I'm proud and honored to be your mother. God was certainly good to me the day he chose me to be your mother.

I love you then, now and always!

Mom

They Say Its Your Birthday....

Got that Beatles song in your head yet? At any rate, in honor of today being my *gulp* 36th Birthday, I figured I'd try to find 36 things about me that I haven't shared yet.....(bear with me because this could be hard, I'm a sharer after all and I lay out all my weird quirks and embarassing stories just for you my dear readers!)

1. I don't have any tattoos but if I were to get one, I know exactly what I want. I'm too afraid of pain and how it would look when I'm older to get one!

2. I have 5 piercings in my ears.

3. I have oldest child syndrome.

4. I've never broken a bone in my whole life.

5. I hate beans - kidney, lima, and baked. My mom would make homemade baked beans and make me eat them and then get mad when I smothered them with ketchup to drown out the taste.

6. When I was little, I used to run and walk on my tiptoes. My mother was convinced this was going to make me a wonderful ballerina - until she witnessed dance class.

7. As a child, I had the nicknames Radio Lips and Speedy Gonzales - Radio Lips because well, I talked a lot and Speed Gonzales because I ran everywhere.

8. I once almost drowned in a swimming pool. My cousin saved me.

9. I'm a zit picker. I can't help it.

10. I love my son to pieces and at this point in time, he's my favorite. I'm sure this will change but he is the most like me and I think he's wonderful. (Stay tuned for the Shaggy birthday post tomorrow)

11. My feelings get hurt easily and I've been known to cry at the drop of a hat.

12. I don't like to sweat. It makes me feel dirty.

13. I forget just how large my ass is until I catch sight of it in the mirror. I think I'm still the skinny 99 lb girl I was at 18.

14. I want to get plastic surgery on my upper arms because they are nasty but I can't justify the cost and I'm scared of the pain.

15. I'm afraid to die.

16. I'm afraid of wasps - deathly afraid. I will run screaming like all the devils of hell are after me.

17. I can quote just about any line from Raw and Delirious and Friends and somehow fit it into my daily conversations. I then laugh like a lunatic.

18. I love to cook but I cannot bake to save my life.

19. I like my house clean and clutter really makes my butthole pucker. I think I have a small amount of OCD.

20. I can read the same books over and over and still love the story. All of my over 200 books I owe have been read at LEAST twice.

21. I bawl like a baby at the movies: Notting Hill, Pretty Woman, Steel Magnolias, Braveheart, and Mr. Holland's Opus.

22. I'm a sucker for romance. Unfortunately, I didn't marry the most romantic guy on the planet so therefore, I'm often disappointed.

23. Tulips are my favorites flowers and my husband will always send them for Valentine's Day. Sometimes I wish he'd send them for no reason but hey, at least he knows what my favorite flowers are.

24. I love wine. I wish the non alcoholic versions tasted as good because I'm a total lightweight and after a glass or two, I'm feeling it. I don't drink it for the alcohol value but for the taste.

25. I don't really like my brother. I dread when he calls because I don't know how to relate to him or what to say. I'll often let the voicemail pick it up.

26. My favorite thing is to make people laugh. I definitely have class clown syndrome.

27. I'm fairly intelligent but have no degrees to back that up.

28. I've very competitive. I don't like to lose and I get mad when I can't do things well.

29. I was dreading turning 30 but my 30's have been some of my best and worst years - however, they are definitely the years where I managed to find myself again.

30. I'm catholic but I haven't been to church in about 7 years. I really felt let down by God when my life turned to shit but we've since made up and I have daily talks with him. I sometimes miss Church but not the religion aspect.

31. If someone asks me a question, I will search until I find the answer. I can't stand not knowing something.

32. I turned down an appointment to West Point Academy. I still don't regret it.

33. I was top student in Chemisty with a 98% average in High School. I'm a total science geek and I wanted to be a biomedical engineer.

34. I don't regret not getting a college degree - I have my children and that is a bigger accomplishment than any college degree.

35. 7th Grade was a hell year for me - I often had suicial thoughts.

36. I cannot pass a collection box without dropping something in - even if its the last dollar I have til payday. I had a lot of help when I was single and I believe in paying it forward and trying to make a difference because I know what its like.

There you are - 36 totally random facts. These are my birthday present to anyone who reads!

PS - as mentioned above, Shaggy's birthday is tomorrow. He'll be 17. I am not old enough to have a 17 year old!!!

The Best Weekend EVER

So, in my previous depressing post, I mentioned that Hubby and Baby are out of town. What I didn't mention is, The Queen of All Drama and Shaggy were also out of the house this WHOLE weekend. Yes, folks, you read that right - I had the house to myself for a whole weekend. It was blissful. It was fantastic. It was wonderful. It was so good, I almost don't want them all to come back!

I got to spend 3 nights and 2 days doing whatever I wanted. The freedom. The joy. I could fart at will. I could talk to myself. I could sing loudly and badly. I could dance like Carlton and think I looked great.

About 9 pm on Friday, when I realized I had a whole weekend ahead of just myself, I stood in the middle of the living room and threw my hands in the air and yelled, "FREEEEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM". Yep, just like Mel from Braveheart but without all the torture. I spent hours doing what I wanted. They consisted of:

1. Steam Cleaning my carpet in the living room. This was great because I could do it my way without all the hinderance help. I moved furniture (including the entertainment center which almost caused me to poop my pants....that fucker is heavy).

2. Descuzzified my kitchen - including scrubbing down all the cabinets. What's more amazing, the kitchen floor stayed clean ALL weekend. It was amazing. It was a thing of beauty.

3. Removed the drain plug from the bathroom sink and cleaned off accumulated goop (that was the single most disgusting thing ever) and snaked out the drain. Even the pipe sparkles now.

4. Watched approximately 1000 hours of Chick Flicks including: Field of Dreams (is it just me or does that whisper freak anyone else out?), Notting Hill (I'm also just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her....I'm almost crying again now), Dirty Dancing (complete with manic dancing and terrible singing to accompany the movie and cheering loudly at "Nobody puts Baby in the corner") and the General's Daughter (have I mentioned my crush on John Travolta?? OHHHH BABY)

5. Caught up on the 50000000000 hours of CSI Miami I had on the DVR. I've recently discovered this show and love it. I can't watch it with Hubby because he has to mimic Horatio's voice and it makes me giggle.

6. Watched ZERO hours of ESPN, College Basketball, Racing, and Monday Night Raw. Yes, I married a redneck - I'm over it now. Good thing he's cute or he might not have made the cut with his terrible taste in TV. I swear if they made a sport of ants racing up a popsicle stick, he'd watch it.

7. Made Indian food (which in turn gave me gas so this worked out perfectly since Hubby hates Indian and I can't fart in front of him).

8. Lit approximately 3 billion candles over the weekend and had no lights on. So Chicky of me and I loved every second of it.

9. Soaked in the tub with candles, wine and a book with NO ONE standing outside the door to just tell me something or ask if I was almost done.

10. Ok, I can't think of a 10 but the list looked weird ending at 9.

Only 2 more days until chaos returns and brings its buddies, clutter and mess with him.

On a side note, thanks to everyone (all 3 of you) who have commented with your best wishes and also thanks to those of you who read but didn't comment and telecommuted your best wishes for hubby. They truly mean a lot to me and it is great to know there are those out there pulling for us. I'll be sure to keep you all updated on the Great Nut Exam once Hubby returns.

UGH

How does one begin a post which could change the whole fabric of your being? How does one begin to express the fears, doubts, and worries that have been running rampant in my mind?

My husband uttered five words to me the other day that have the capabilities to shatter my world and heart - "I think the cancer's back". You see, when he was 26, he had testicular cancer. He lost one of his testicles and went through radiation. We've often joked that the radiation created "Super Sperm" since he went on to have two more children. 12 years of being cancer free and now he thinks its come back.

Before I dwell too deeply on my thoughts, we have not had any diagnosis confirmed or denied yet. He left for PA this morning and only discovered the lumps on his other testicle on Thursday. He is going to be heading in to see a urologist when he returns and with a bit of luck, this post will all be for nothing. Keep your fingers crossed, say prayers if you say them, light voodoo candles if that's your thing, whatever your mojo is, please send a little our way until we know for sure.

I wasn't with Don the first time he went through cancer. You see, we are both Second Timers. In spite of how much he annoys me at times, everytime I think of this horrible black cloud looming over us, tears just start welling up in my eyes. I want to throw myself on the floor with all the strength of our baby and beat my fists and scream. I try to bury the idea of cancer in the back of my head, thinking worrying about it isn't going to do any good until we know, but its always right there. Like that annoying tickle in your throat or the feel of a hair on your tongue. You just can't quite get rid of it.

On a more normal Kate note, when he told me about his testicle, I did respond with:

Sure, you mean I got my tubes tied for nothing??!?

Nothing like a little humor to lighten the day.....

Confession Time

Anyone who has read this (or who actually knows me) will realize that my humor runs along the gutter level. I still giggle widly at the Friends episode where Joey and Rachel laugh through Ross' speech when he says "Homo" and "Erectus". When we package things here at work and talk about putting the tube in the box - I'm the first one to start laughing. When we had a virus on our shop computer and someone said it was a Trojan - fits of giggles. I can talk about sex, pooping, farting, etc. but what I can't do? Fart in front of my husband. The longer I go without doing it, the harder it is becoming. My ass just clenches up.

My husband wouldn't care if I farted. As a matter of fact, after he stopped giggling, he'd probably cheer and grade it. I. JUST. CAN'T. DO. IT. There have bene times I've had to fart and I've attempted to do the Butt Clench Waddle to a different area of the house to release the pressure and he'll follow me. Now, that's not to say I've never farted and here are 3 instances of when I have farted that I fessed up to last night:

1. When Satan Spawn was first born, she came to work with me. One morning as Hubby was driving us down there, a silent one slipped out. To my horror, it stunk. Badly. Hubby looked over at me and asked if I smelled that. Knowing what it was, I had to devise a plan quickly. I innocently sniffed the air and proclaimed that it must have been Satan Spawn with a little gas.

2. One night when we were having ummm....sex.....one slipped out. I was totally thrown off the prize because I was worrying that he'd heard it (it was NOT the silent variety). Luckily, he was a bit too interested in other things and missed that one entirely!

3. Yesterday at work, I had some stinky silent gas. I was working in another area with most of the people I work with and one of those pesky fuckers worked their way past the clenched ass cheeks. Immediately, I was engulfed in a foul odor. I looked over at my boss (aka Satan) and asked her if she smelled that. She sniffed the air and said what does it smell like? I said, Ass. She totally blamed one of the guys working with us.

Of course, as I finished my confession, Hubby was laughing so hard he farted.

Who Needs Drivers Ed?

I'm sure I've mentioned approximately 1 billion times, that Shaggy is almost 17 (less than one month as he informed me this morning...mental note to self: Easter gifts, Shaggy's Birthday and Drama Queen's 13th Birthday all in the next 4 weeks!) Well, unlike most almost 17 year olds, he does NOT have his driver's lisence. You see, Shaggy is a tad on the disorganized side and it tends to affect his grades at school. In a desperate effort to make him more responsible, I told him that he couldn't get a learner's permit until he kept his grades at a minimum of a C. Therefore, he didn't get a permit until AFTER his 16th birthday. Then, in order to get a driver's lisence, the same provisions applied. So, here we are, less than 4 weeks til his birthday and we are just starting to learn to drive.

Before anyone thinks that I am the most evil mother in the world, let me explain. The kid has 4 classes. That's right, F.O.U.R. They do block scheduling at his school and he has 4 classes each quarter. Each year, only 4 of the 8 classes he takes are academic. For instance, this quarter he is taking: Physics, English, Algebra and career center (auto mechanics). But, last semester, he had: History, career center, ROTC, and CAD. Therefore, maintaining a C average, NOT DIFFICULT!

At any rate, driver's ed is fucking expensive....over $300. Ok, some people may not find that expensive but, hell - I can teach him to drive for free! So, that's what I've been doing. And its been going well. Except.....

Last Sunday we were driving down to my work to stop in to change out some printers. I let him drive. He almost drives like the little old man...you know the one, the one who putters along at exactly 19 miles per hour. We were heading up a large hill that has a stop light at the top. We needed to turn left at the light so, most people know you go up the hill, stop at the light, check for traffic then proceed with your left turn with caution. Unless you are Shaggy that is....

Me: Shaggy, you need to go faster or we won't make it up the hill. Going 9 miles per hour is approximately 16 miles under the speed limit.

Slight jump in speed - up to like 11 miles per hour

Me: Shaggy, go!!!

More significant jump in speed - up to like 20 miles per hour

Me: Shaggy, GO GO GO! The light is green so step on it!

Then, Shaggy stomps on the gas peddle and performs a move I think I saw the General Lee do in the Dukes of Hazards. We get to the top of the hill and he yanks the wheel to the left and takes the turn on 2 wheels leaving a trail of rubber behind us. I was simultaneously trying not to shit my pants and vomit while attempting to scream:

DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!!!

His response???

You said, GO so I went!

Here I Am!

scene: picture a short red head with huge boobs and enough padding to help qualify her to play the Michelin Man or Stay Puff Marshmallow Man jumping wildly up and down waving her hands

Ewwww - that's quite a visual isn't it???

First off, thanks so much to Sasha and ClemsonGirl for looking for me. They found me buried under a mountain of basketball stuff. Yep, that's right, it's college basketball time and between the NCAA and all the college conferences, we've been buried at work. What stuff do we do, you might be wondering? (Or not wondering but I'm going to tell you anyway so you might as well pretend that you care!) If you've seen a college basketball tournament on TV, we've probably done the decals (stickers for those of you who aren't familiar) for the court. So, next time you are watching your favorite team play in their conference tournament - remember me! Just a couple of more weeks before the flurry settles to a more managable level of craziness and then we get into NBA Playoffs.

So, Phantom. Blah. I was disappointed. As I mentioned, I saw it on the stage in London originally. That was not a touring production so the props, effects, scenery, etc were much better BUT, Kelly loved it and that really was the point of going. The music was great and I left there with the songs buzzing in my head which was great. It was a fun night out so all in all, totally worth it to see the play through Kell's eyes.

My weekend was filled with shit - and yes, I mean that literally! Apparently, we had a city sewer line get blocked and it backed up into MY BASEMENT. There was 6" of, well, to be nice we'll call it water. My house smells like a sewer line. To top it off, my renter's insurance doesn't cover this. On a good note, I called the city and asked who was going to pay for the damages (Shaggy made himself a little living space down there) and they said if we submit a detailed list of damages, they'll submit it to their insurance company. Keep your fingers crossed because he pretty much lost everything!

On a side note, I really need some comments on an issue I've been wrestling with. I've debated about posting this and then decided all the smart and wonderful blog people out there might have some great advice for me. I have a issue I'm really struggling with. My husband pays more attention to the baby than to me. God, that sounds petty even typing it but if anyone has gone through this, they'll understand. Where he used to give me all his attention, now he gives it all to her. She is truly a Daddy's girl and I appreciate that I have a husband who is good with her and willing to do all kinds of things to help but I can't help resenting the fact that I feel like second best. After all, she is going to grow up and leave and then it will be just him and I.

Now that I feel like a complete loser for that.....back to basketball world!

Love Is In The Air

In light of today being Valentine's Day, its a good reason as any to share my story about my dad that I promised.

First, the background so it all makes sense. My dad married my mom when I was 5. He is not my biological father but he is the father of my heart. He adopted me when I was 7 and made it official. He couldn't get rid of me anymore! He's so wonderful and I am lucky that he loved/loves my mother enough to take the whole package back in 1979. A package that included a VERY spoiled and VERY bratty 5 year old.

My dad joined the military right before he and my mother married. His first duty station was in Abilene, Texas - Dyess AFB for those in the know! He and my mother packed up a U-Haul and started the trek across the country leaving behind all their families and me. I stayed back for a month or so before I had to fly out to join them. It was the first time my mother and I had been seperated but I got to stay with my Nana so I didn't mind so much. I am pretty sure it was harder on her. Apparently, I made many many friends on the flight (hey - I didn't have the nickname of Radio Lips for nothing) and as I got off the plane many of the people were telling me to have fun in Texas. Apparently, as the story goes according to my mom, she was dying to see me and couldn't wait but I was too busy telling all my new friends Good-bye. Once I was done with that, I flew right past her into my dad's arms. My poor mother was broken hearted but I'd already had her for 5 years, I knew she was there to stay!

So, the point of the back story is, my father is awesome to me and this story just illustrates one more way. He adores all his children and grandchildren but he still loves my mom completely. Awwwww...

In 2004, they celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. They finally had all the kids grown and out of the house. They had some extra money and time in which to finally enjoy themselves. They took a week long trip to NYC. I made them a cool sign to take to the Today show and they made the outside shots several times with their wicked sign but Al never talked to them. During this trip, they had tickets to see Cabaret at the old Studio 54. During this time, John Stamos was acting as the Emcee for the show. I don't know how familiar anyone is with the show Cabaret but its pretty racy. I guess my parents had seats on the floor as if they were actually in the saloon watching the a real Cabaret. Waitresses came around and took drink orders - the whole nine yards. During the course of the show, John Stamos comes down to these tables and goes up to a woman. She had a bottle of wine on the table which he grabs and starts to drink out of and then he takes her on the stage and dances with her. Then, he brings her back to her table, keeps her bottle of wine, then starts prowling through the crowd.

John is standing with his back to my father debating whom to dance with next. He is looking around the table musing aloud whether he should dance with another woman......and then he turns toward my father....and wonders if he should dance with a man. He grabs my father and takes him on stage. They are slow dancing and then John Stamos grabs his butt so my Dad gives him an ass squeeze back. They keep dancing and then my father does the thing that makes this story great - he looks right at John Stamos, says into his microphone, "This is for my wife, Rosemary", grabs John Stamos and kisses him full on the lips! The crowd went wild and to say my father stole the show is an understatement!

They waited outside the theater to get autographs. John signed my father's playbook - Pat, Great Kisses, John Stamos. Then my mother said she couldn't leave without a kiss so she kissed him as well.

The story in itself is great but something happened a few weeks later to make it just that little bit better. John Stamos was being interviewed on Late Night with Carson Daly about his role in Cabaret and he was telling Carson about how racy the show is. Carson had asked him if anything weird had ever happened and John said no BUT he said he did have a guy kiss him. So, he did get indirectly mentioned on Carson and he made out with Uncle Jesse!

Music Of The Night.....

Have I mentioned my profound love for musicals? No? What a slacker I am!

I caught the Broadway Bug on London's West End when I was 12. We had a school field trip to see "42nd Street". I didn't know what it was but a day out of school in London sounded a bit of ok. It was like one hit of crack - I was hooked. I was fortunate to live in England for 11 years and during that time, I got to see quite a few musicals on the West End. I saw the aforementioned 42nd Street, West Side Story, Cats, and best of all - Phantom of the Opera.

My dad came over to visit (they left England in 1991 and I stayed until 1993) in April of 1993. He informs me that my mom told him he must get tickets to see Phantom since this would be his last chance to see it over in England. I have to admit to some raving mild jealousy until he informed me that I was going along for the show. A. M. A. Z. I. N. G. I got to spend a fabulous day with my father capped off by an amazing performance.

Since returning to the States, my momma has taken me along to see some musicals here. Les Miserable, Fame, Ms. Saigon, and Mama Mia. We took Kelly along to Mama Mia and she caught the bug. To watch a musical through someone else's eyes the first time is like the first Christmas your kids realize what Christmas is about (Presents, duh!) and their eyes light up and their feet dance when they see the loot under the tree. Priceless. Turns out, Phantom is touring here is Omaha and I just proudly purchased 2 tickets to go see it with Kelly.

Can you tell I'm a bit excited? I'm going to be singing like a fool for the next few weeks. It sure helps take the sting out of the SuperBowlSuck! Fucking Patriots! Also, it reminds me of a great story that I promise to share - it has to do with my parents, New York, and my dad making out with a guy on stage. Stay tuned....